


Fall On Me

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:19:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1617422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharon and Brenda are stuck in a car together. There's some tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall On Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UbiquitousMixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/gifts).



It’s quiet, for five minutes now. They’ve just left the city behind them completely and the freeway has spat their rental out onto some endless tree lined road splitting the countryside in half. Brenda’s hands tighten over the steering wheel and her face and neck flush as she pushes her foot harder into the gas pedal, pushing it to 85. She’s uncomfortable and, not just because Sharon’s skirt rides up every time she sighs and rubs her knees together in obvious irritation.

 

The radio is on, some song Brenda doesn’t know. She hears the other woman inhale, preparing some cutting, dry remark and Brenda grinds her teeth in anticipation.

 

“I told you that was the exit,” Sharon says, drawing out the words in a way that’s almost condescending.

 

“I know it.” Brenda snaps and the brunette throws her hands up in defeat.

 

They fall into another silence that is thicker than the last. The ice in the cooler is definitely just a bag of water now.

 

Every year, the major Police Departments in the state get together for what is meant to be a friendly game of baseball followed by BBQ and beer. Brenda and Sharon were entrusted with the responsibility of bringing the beer. Sharon offered to drive. Brenda all but laughed and called her “little lady” as she completely ignored the suggestion and slid into the driver’s seat. Now, they’re lost. Sharon knows the area like the back of her hand, she can get them back on the road to Castaic Lake, she probably even knows a few shortcuts. But she is not about to tell Brenda Leigh that, because Brenda Leigh very pointedly suggested Sharon just “sit there and let her drive” because she knew what she was doing and “didn’t move to Los Angeles yesterday”.

 

Brenda should have known that was mistake the second the words rolled off her tongue. Not only did she tempt fate, but Sharon fell mute instantly, not bothering with a snappy comeback or playful bickering. No. Sharon Raydor is pissed, and is doing now what she knows best. Teaching Brenda Leigh a lesson.

 

It’s getting late, and no one is calling, so Brenda picks up her phone from its place in the cup holder and eyes it swiftly. No signal. She gasps, “Where the hell are we that we have no signal?”

 

Sharon doesn’t say a word, aside from the tiny noncommittal sound she makes that sounds a lot like a stifled chuckle.

 

“What?” Brenda snaps.

 

“Nothing,” Sharon snaps back before brushing her hair to one side, offering Brenda a view of her profile, her neck free of any jewelry glowing faintly against the full country sunlight.

 

Brenda’s mouth runs dry suddenly and she jerks the wheel when a honk that is not directed at her pulls her from her reverie suddenly.

 

Sharon jerks her head in the blonde’s direction, there’s a worry crease on her forehead, “Are you all right?”

 

“Fine.” It sounds a little harsher then intended, so Brenda softens it with a grateful smile at the other woman and adds, “I’m fine. I’m sorry about that.”

 

Sharon nods and returns her gaze to the road ahead of them. She won’t offer to drive, and Brenda knows this is on purpose. Not until Brenda admits she was wrong in the first place. She would. _She should_. But her pride won’t let her, will it? She _should_ , because Sharon is shifting in her seat again and craning her neck and Brenda is sure she can see, out of the corner of her eye, a peek of a red brassier.

 

“Sweet lord, help me,” Brenda mumbles, low enough to for the radio to cover it. She licks her lips and wrings the steering wheel in her palms. She needs to keep herself under control, because while she’s stolen a kiss here and there from the older woman, there’s always been a quick exit, and now, well, now, if Brenda were to try something, she can’t run. They’re stuck in this car for who knows how long and her pride—her stubborn Southern pride. To her right, Sharon clears her throat and casually sways one knee out, then back in. Brenda’s mouth opens to beg for directions, only, the left rear tire chooses this moment to blow out from under them and both women gasp and exclaim in surprise.

 

After securely pulling off to the side of the road, Brenda turns toward a still rattled Sharon and touches the brunette’s shoulder reassuringly. “Are you okay?”

 

Sharon eyes Brenda’s hand on her shoulder momentarily before swiftly nodding her head. “Yes, I’m fine. Did we lose a tire?”

 

“I believe so, yes.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“There’s no spare! How can there be no spare! This is a rental!” Brenda kicks the flat tire one more time for good measure, but Sharon is already giving the towing company directions, holding her index finger to her ear in order to block Brenda out.

 

“They’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

 

“How do you have service? I’ve been roaming for an hour!”

 

“I have great service. All the time.” Sharon replies and smiles smugly.

 

Damn her. Damn her and her stupid encyclopedic knowledge of everything. Sharon pacing around the dirt, her black stilettos now half grey with dust, the flowing skirt of her more casual than usual green floral dress blowing gently in the warm breeze. If Brenda focuses enough, she can sometimes get a glimpse of a thigh here and there. She turns quickly away and presses the heel of her palm to her forehead.

 

“Here.”

 

Brenda’s eyes flutter open and Sharon is standing in front of her, holding out a dripping water bottle she’s pulled out of the cooler. How long has she been standing here, telling herself to stop undressing her colleague with her eyes? She doesn’t take the bottle and she’s staring again, not saying anything.

 

Sharon twists the lid off the bottle, places the plastic cap on the roof of the car and pours some water into her palm. She reaches over and starts gently at the blonde’s temple, slowly mowing upward until her cool, damp fingers delve into soft curls and over Brenda’s scalp. She does it once or twice, that worried crease even more defined as she goes.

 

“You seem to be overheated,” Sharon says, smiling softly at the blonde, her fingers combing through blonde locks, magically erasing every ounce of tension from the younger woman’s body and instead making her feel as if she’s melting, and freezing all at once.

 

Something like a sigh escapes Brenda and she feels a shiver roll own the back of her neck when Sharon touches her there. Brenda shuts her eyes, it’s beyond her now, just as the way her nipples tighten and the throbbing between her legs becomes painful.

 

Swallowing a moan when Sharon’s thumb rubs the back of her ear, Brenda instinctively reaches for the brunette’s wrist. “Stop,” She whispers weakly. It’s pathetic and needy. She can hear herself nearly beg, but she needs her to stop before they can’t.

 

“Why?” Sharon asks.

 

Everything Brenda has been experiencing during this entire torturous day is now reflected back at her and she doesn’t quite know how to handle that aside for inappropriately. “Because if you keep doing that, I’ll do something stupid.”

 

“What if I want you to?”

 

Brenda’s hold tightens around Sharon’s wrists as she lowers it off her neck and unknowingly pulls her closer. Sharon gasps and drops the open bottle to the ground, splashing water on heir feet and legs.

 

They’re close enough and Sharon’s pulse is fast against Brenda’s digits, her skin is warm and her mouth so inviting. She could kiss her, she could kiss her again, and the thought of this—the memory of kissing her before, of her tongue against her own, it’s making Brenda so damn weak with desire, she’s dizzy.

 

“Do it.” Sharon whispers harshly.

 

They’re so close. _So close_.

 

A distant honk pulls them apart suddenly and Brenda wants to cry, she’s so disappointed. When the tow truck pulls over behind their car, they don’t look at each other again. Brenda can’t decide if this is a good thing or not. She wonders how she’s going to drive back home with Sharon in the car after what just _almost_ happened. 

 

Their eyes meet briefly from opposite ends of the car and the energy that is still so painfully there shocks Brenda.

 

She is so fucked.

 

 _So fucked_.


End file.
